


Where Do We Go From Here?

by wildeisms



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, Post-LSODM, Pre-tDotL, Suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6634531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildeisms/pseuds/wildeisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reflections in the wake of battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Do We Go From Here?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KLStarre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLStarre/gifts).



> happy birthday kessie, have some pain

The journey had not been arduous, but it certainly should have been.

It was wrong, Dexter thought, for them to simply teleport away, even if they had been ordered to do just that. It was wrong for them to travel and stay in comfort. It was wrong for him to be taking on this task as one of two Dead Men, not one of seven.

If asked, Dexter would most certainly deny that he was a superstitious man. And in giving that answer, he would be a rotten liar. Although perhaps it was time to let go of the need for seven. There had been seven Dead Men once more, and yet - 

They had lost Hopeless. Then Skulduggery - in a way - and then Larrikin. Then Valkyrie, then Ghastly and Anton, and Erskine too, if he had ever been truly one of them. Skulduggery was back and fighting and perhaps Valkyrie had a chance at being saved, but how much longer would this go on? How much more could he take before he gave up the fight?

Dexter didn’t know. All he knew in that moment was that he didn’t want to face anyone. He had found himself a secluded spot in the car park of the motel the Monster Hunters had decided they would stay at - wrong, all wrong - and sat back against the wall with his legs pulled up to his chest. 

Ghastly is dead. Anton is dead. Erskine killed them. Valkyrie is gone. Ghastly is dead. Anton is dead. Erskine killed them. Valkyrie is gone.

The thoughts beat through his mind to the rhythm of his heartbeat, the disgusting reminder that he was alive when so many of his friends were not. And he had the audacity to be staying in relative comfort! It was an insult. He deserved to suffer. No, he needed to. Or perhaps he needed to be brave, for them. But what he wanted was to fight, to do something incredible and reckless, to keep on running and never stop, never let the nightmares catch him and never stop long enough to feel the pain he knew in his heart that he must let himself feel, pain that would inevitably consume him no matter what he did to stop it.

His forehead was resting on his knees when Saracen approached him and sat down at his side.

“You okay?”

Dexter simply closed his eyes and gave a minute shake of his head.

“Stupid question, sorry. Me neither.”

They lapsed into a silence, heavy not with awkwardness, but with the weight of everything that had happened and everything yet to come. They both knew that Erskine could not be forgiven, Valkyrie probably couldn’t be saved, and Skulduggery’s burning fury would kill him all over again. And yet, they would still fight. They had no choice, really. If they were to go out too - and there was a very real chance that they would - then they would go out fighting back. It was how they had both lived the whole of their lives. They wouldn’t know how to do anything else.

Dexter lifted his head to look at Saracen and broke their silence. “Do you think they’ll be a funeral?” His voice was flat, emotionless, cold and there was none of his usual energy and warmth in his eyes.

The question startled Saracen. “I- I doubt it. There isn’t usually-”

“How many others of ours did he end up killing, in the battle?”

“I don’t know. Plenty.”

“God damn mother fucker.”

“Hear, hear.” Saracen raised an imaginary glass with a humourless laugh, and just for a second, the corner of Dexter’s mouth twitched. “Come here, you,” he sighed, placing an arm around Dexter’s shoulders. Shifting up closer, Dexter came to rest his head against Saracen and a hand on his chest. Brushing his hair back, Saracen placed a soft kiss on the top of Dexter’s head and sighed. Another moment of silence, and then-

“All those good memories, every time he was there… It’s never going to feel good again, is it?”

This time, Saracen didn’t answer. He didn’t really need to. Perhaps, one day, they could look back and feel okay, but that day seemed as distant as the stars above them. 

\---

An ocean away, in a cell that could not see the day breaking over Ireland, Erskine Ravel lay on the floor, gasping for breath as the pain finally ceased. And yet, it did not. The physical pain with which he had been cursed may have stopped, but he had no respite. Not when the weight of what he had done pressed down on his heart like a vice and the loss it had caused pierced him like an ice cold spear. He had brought this upon himself, and he doubted even Darquesse had the power to make it stop. 


End file.
